Back and Forth through Time
by Candywolf33
Summary: Cheyenne, a modern day American girl, is unexpectedly thrown into the depths of the past. Now at the mercy of an elderly Achilles and Native American assassin, Connor, she must adapt while figuring out her place in a world vastly different from the one she left behind.
1. A New World

"Christ! My head!" Cheyenne moaned, gripping her pulsing temple with one hand while feeling her way up the darkened stairs with the other. She should've just turned on the lights, but her headache was already splitting as it was. Besides, her balance was shaky, so she would be running her hand along the wall one way or another.

Finally, she reached the top and made a direct beeline for her room. Going out drinking probably wasn't the best idea, she decided whilst pulling on her pajamas. Then she plopped down on her unmade bed, only sparing her packed duffle bag a quick glance before she laid back.

Cheyenne had to get up at eleven to go to brunch with her parents. Then, immediately after, drive to the next town over and board the bus for vacation. It had taken forever to convince Mary to give her a week off to go to the Black Hills. They really needed her, but her boss recognized that a stressed out worker would be counterproductive. At least the woman had managed to make it work, as Cheyenne would not get another chance to do this for a long time.

Yeah. Maybe she should have thought through this 'going out drinking' decision a bit more.

But what's done was done, so she only let out another exhausted groan before shutting her eyes and drifting off, hoping the hangover tomorrow morning wouldn't be too bad.

…

The sound of objects being shuffled around was what woke her, followed quickly by birds chipping and bright light in her face. She grimaced, baring her teeth in a silent snarl, ripping her arm out from under the covers and bringing it to her head. There was a pounding sensation burying deep in her skull, causing Cheyenne to groan while sitting up.

_Wait a minute_, she realized, and finally opened her eyes to look down at the unfamiliar blanket covering her. She hadn't gotten underneath her bed covers last night, and this wasn't even her bed!

Then the sound of a zipper sounded in the otherwise silent room and she finally noticed the other person in there with her.

The other person who was going through her things!

"Hey!" she said without thought. "Put that down!"

The man whirled around immediately, dropping both her purse and flexible, silicone cup he'd been examining. He examined her closely, as if sizing her up, and she suddenly regretted being so aggressive. This man was _huge_, his thick muscles covered with tan skin that suggested a life lived under the sun. She found herself backing away, but as quickly as he'd turned on her, his gaze softened and he straightened up.

"I am sorry," he apologized, voice low toned and sincere. "I did not expect you to wake up."

She blinked twice, confusion flooding her mind as she looked around the room. She didn't recognize this place, nor had any explanation as to how she arrived here.

Unless…

"Well," she spat out. "Now that I am, would you mind telling me how the fuck I got here?"

The man was taken aback, brown eyes flashing with surprise. "I-"

"Did you kidnap me or something?! You sick fuck!"

"Keep your voice down!" he snapped back. "And stop cursing. I did no such thing."

Her eyes narrowed.

"You have been drinking," he continued, hands clasped in front of him as he tried to reason with her. "Perhaps you had too much-"

"I did not! I would never drink that much!"

His head lowered slightly and the thick, black hair and single braid framing his face moved with the action. "Miss, please calm down. I did no-"

"And what seems to be the problem here?" an elderly voice spoke, interrupting the other man.

Cheyenne raised an eyebrow as she examined the newcomer, a crippled old man hobbling into the room with the use of a cane. Old and fail as he looked, he didn't seem like the type to take people hostage. And, now that she took a second look, the first man didn't either, his sincere eyes and demeanor unbefitting of a criminal.

"She is scared of us, Achilles," the first man explained. "She thinks we took her."

"Hmm. Quite the contrary, actually," Achilles assured her. "Connor here found you lying by the river, along with those...bags of yours."

He gestured over to her left with his cane, and she turned to see her duffle lying on the floor by the bed. It was a little dirty, but otherwise looked untouched.

"Where are you from, child?" Achilles asked.

"I'm from Iowa."

Connor raised a curious brow. "Iowa? Where is that?"

Cheyenne was a little taken aback. "The United States."

"And where is that?"

Now she was absolutely baffled. "How have you not heard of those names before? We're in the U.S, right?"

Granted, Iowa wasn't really famous. But to never have heard of the entire U.S seemed unlikely.

"I do not know of this 'U.S' you speak of," Achilles informed her. "We are in my manor, with the closest colony being Boston."

"What!? That's impossible! How can I be that far from Iowa?!" Because even if she left her home in a drunken stupor, she couldn't have come this far on her own. Someone else would've had to take her.

"Where is Iowa?" Connor asked again. "Is it another country?"

"No. It's in the United States. In America."

Both Achilles and Connor balked at her words.

"We are in the American colonies," Connor said. "But this 'Iowa' is not one of them."

She opened her mouth to respond, but just as quickly closed it and shook her head. "Never mind that. You said you found me outside, right?" They both nodded. "Well, thank you for not leaving me out there.

Another nod from Connor. "You are welcome."

"I need to get home, though. I'm sure my parents are worried sick. Can I have my purse back?"

After Connor retrieved it, she thanked him while pulling out her phone. Her phone wasn't broken, thankfully, but she noticed there wasn't any service.

"Great," she muttered and put the device away. Too far out in the middle of nowhere to get service, probably. "Can I use your phone? Mine isn't working."

She only received another confused look from both of them. Connor especially so. "Phone?"

Cheyenne let out a low snort.

"What?!" Connor demanded.

"How do you not know what a phone is? It's 2019."

If the two men didn't think she was crazy before, they certainly did now.

"Are you quite alright, madam?" Achilles asked. "Hit your head a time or two, perhaps?"

"Why are you asking that?"

"It is not 2019," Connor explained. "It is May 15th, 1776."

She let out another snort. "Okay you two. That's funny, but let's be serious now."

Connor's eyes narrowed. "We are serious."

"No you aren't. That's crazy. 1776 happened a long time ago."

"No. It is 1776."

"Are you alright, child?" Achilles asked again, just when it looked like Connor was going to add something else. "You seem very confused."

"Okay. Last chance. Drop the act, now."

They didn't. Achilles continued with his penetrating stare while Connor straightened up at her tone.

"How do we know you are not crazy?" Connor accused, shooting her a suspicious stare.

"I am not!" she hissed, voice full of venom as she retrieved her phone from her bag and turned it back on. "Look!"

She showed Connor the illuminated screen, practically shoving it in his face until he took the device to study it further. His brows scrunched together at first, but soon relaxed as surprise colored his features.

"May 25th, 2019,'" he read. Achilles tapped his cane and cleared his throat, so Connor handed the elder man the device.

"I told you," she muttered while Achilles studied the phone, a similar look of surprise on his face.

No hostility remained on Connor's face; all of it had been replaced with deep confusion. "But how are you here?"

"I don't know," she told him. "I fell asleep in my own bed, but woke up here."

Cheyenne's head lowered while she processed the situation. In the past, well over two hundred years before she would be born. It threw her frazzled mind for a loop and left her struggling to comprehend how this even happened.

"Perhaps this discussion would be best continued downstairs," Achilles suggested at last. "Are you hungry, child?"

She turned towards him when he spoke, his compassionate smile calming her enough to nod. With that, Achilles led her out of the room while she followed close behind. Connor tagged along quietly, but nudged her shoulder once they reached the stairs.

"What was that...thing from before?"

"What thing?"

"The soft cup."

Cheyenne blushed a little. "I'm not sure if I should tell you."

"Why?" Connor asked, intrigued but a bit suspicious due to her hesitance.

"Because it's embarrassing."

They were walking down the stairs, but Connor suddenly stepped in front and stopped her in her tracks. "Tell me now!" he demanded.

"Why?" she said. "Come now. There's no way that cup is dangerous."

"I will not take chances with a stranger. Especially if you will be staying-"

"I use it for my period," she deadpanned.

Connor's face lost it's suspicious look at that, his tan skin flushing a little while she heard the taping of Achilles cane stop. He huffed and continued walking a moment later, but Connor just turned his back on her and hurriedly stomped off to another part of the house. Most likely to wash his hands, if the semi-disturbed look on his face was anything to go by. She, on the other hand, sighed before continuing to follow Achilles to the kitchen.


	2. Adjustments

Well, it could be worse. She could be out on her own, left to fend for herself in the untamed frontier had Connor not found her. If what Achilles said was true, the bears and wolves would likely have gotten her, if a mountain lion or some other predator hadn't first.

For that, she was extremely grateful and made sure to apologize to Connor for insulting him and jumping to conclusions. He accepted, though he'd get stiff if he looked at her. Probably still flustered from earlier, but at least he didn't hold her harsh words against her.

Especially since she would be bunking in his room for the time being.

She protested, of course, but the two men insisted she stay with Connor. It wasn't until later that day, after a short tour of the place, when she discovered there were no spare bedrooms. But even so, she suspected that the reason they wouldn't let her sleep in one of the other spacious rooms was that they were wary of her. Connor still watched her closely and only left her alone for the few minutes it took to use the bathroom. Or chamber pot, since indoor plumbing wasn't a thing yet.

"You can chill around me, you know," she told Connor after finishing up.

The native was walking beside her, heading towards the bedroom to retrieve her bag when he shot her a strange look. "What?"

"It means to relax."

Connor still seemed perplexed, but soon shrugged it off. "Forgive me, but we need to be careful."

She raised a dark blonde brow. "Do I seriously look like I would hurt anyone?"

"Looks can be deceiving."

They arrived in what turned out to be Achilles' room. She grabbed her duffle and, though slightly annoyed with the native's blunt attitude, turned to follow Connor to his room. "Well, if it makes you feel better, I'll let you look through my bag."

Connor's eyes snapped to hers.

"Don't look so surprised. I have nothing to hide."

"Truly?" Genuine surprise coated his words, and it was the first time Cheyenne had heard a tone of voice from him that wasn't emotionless or distrustful.

"Of course. Then you can settle down."

"You are...unconcerned with privacy."

"Well like I said, there's nothing to hide. And I don't have anything that you'd find overly damning, I think."

His brows creased at that.

"It's fine, Connor. I'm harmless." She giggled. "Unless you think I plan to choke somebody with my underwear, that is."

She was only being sarcastic, but Connor's bronze face darkened with suspicion. Cheyenne quickly stuttered out an apology but he still seemed unsure, even as he turned around and brought her into his room. She wanted to try reassuring him again, but instead handed him the duffle and left to retrieve the spare sleeping bag and blankets Achilles dug out for her. She thanked him before returning to Connor, and was surprised when she found the duffle sitting near the corner she would be staying in.

"That was fast," she observed while beginning to make her bed.

A small, "hmmm," was all she got out of Connor. Although, she was pleased to note, he seemed a little more at ease.

"I told you," she continued lightly. "Nothing deadly."

"Perhaps."

With a small sigh, Cheyenne opened the duffle and started digging through it. She was still wearing her pajamas, and as she selected a pair of shorts and a tank top to change into later, she dug around for a bottle of face wash and a brush as well. She could do with a little freshening up.

A little creak sounded from beside her. "What are you looking for?"

"A white bottle. I want to wash my face."

"Which one?"

Cheyenne nearly balked as she rose and went to Connor's side, who was overlooking the missing bottles on a small bedside table. "You took some of my things?"

"I do not know what they are."

"Can't you just read what's on the label?" Connor didn't bother with a reply, causing Cheyenne to repress an annoyed sigh. "Nevermind. Can I take what I need?"

"Sure."

Cheyenne nearly rolled her eyes while grabbing her face wash. She could understand caution, but while overlooking the assortment of soaps, hair products, and a couple of pill bottles, she thought it was a little excessive. Hopefully, after she explained what each item was used for, Connor would let up.

For now, however, he was eyeing the bottle strangely. "Why not use soap?"

"This is soap. Well, it's different than the kind you're familiar with, I'm sure."

"It is. Our soap is not a liquid, nor does it have pebbles in it."

"Pebbles? Oh, those aren't pebbles. They just help to scrub the face."

"Is regular soap not enough?"

"Isn't your soap kind of harsh on skin?"

He considered. "I suppose."

"Then it's a bit much. The stuff made in my time is much more gentle."

Connor's demeanor softened a little. He seemed genuinely interested and brushed his fingers against the side of his face. "That sounds nice. How do you make it?"

"I wish I could tell you. Other people make it and I buy it."

He frowned at that, but the tapping of a cane sounded before he could speak. "Are you settling in, Cheyenne?"

She smiled at Achilles. "Yeah, I am."

"That is good. Dinner will be ready in an hour."

At the mention of food, her stomach growled. Despite being brought into the kitchen earlier, her stomach had twisted into knots and she couldn't eat. Now that she'd calmed a little, she was famished. "I'll be there," she said to Achilles, then turned to Connor. "Do you have a place where I can wash up?"

He nodded, Achilles' cane echoing in the background as he headed downstairs. "This way."

...

She tried not to show it, but Cheyenne was a little put off when Connor took her to the nearby river. She really should've expected as much, for the same reason indoor bathrooms weren't a thing yet. It was the first time she'd ever washed her face outside, but she managed while ignoring the feeling of Connor's eyes boring into her.

She must've made her discomfort a little too obvious, for Connor started asking questions while they walked back to the manor. He seemed a little annoyed with her at first, perhaps thinking she was spoiled or stuck up, until she explained how people from her time bathed. By the time they got back, she'd introduced Connor to indoor plumbing, the idea of bathing everyday, and the fact that rivers back home weren't really safe to bathe in or drink from. Thankfully, he seemed to understand where she was coming from.

Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all.

…

Nevermind. As it turned out, this time period was going to take a lot of getting used to.

Cheyenne sighed as she turned over in her sleeping bag, eyes open and staring at the wall. Dinner hadn't gone over well and it appeared she underestimated just how much had changed between the 18th century and her own time.

Apparently, her pajamas from earlier were strange to the two men. Perhaps because there were more concerning issues at the time, like dealing with the sudden time traveler and figuring out if she was a threat, neither mentioned it and she never considered the possibility that they might not think highly of modern day attire. Because of that, she thought nothing of wandering downstairs in a thin tank top and short-shorts, causing an extremely flabbergasted Achilles to nearly have a fit when he caught sight of her.

"What are you wearing!?"

Cheyenne stopped short, startled badly enough that she nearly jumped out of her skin. "Is something wrong?"

"You are nearly naked!"

"What!? I am not!"

"I find it completely unacceptable to wear underwear at the dinner table!"

"These aren't underwear; they're shorts and a shirt. And there's nothing wrong with them!"

Achilles may have reacted strongly, but Connor's eyes doubled in size the second he entered the room, face flushed red while he averted his gaze. Cheyenne felt frustrated and embarrassed, but finally stalked back to her and Connor's room while muttering about changing clothes. Thankfully, when she came back down in a t-shirt and jeans, neither seemed to have no problem with that.

But Cheyenne did, as she was uncomfortable due to the thick, humid summer heat. By the time it was over, her mood had taken a nosedive and she craved a shower desperately; but, of course, she would have to go back to the river for that.

It was yet another thing she'd have to get used to, though she knew adjusting to a lack of air conditioning in summer weather would be difficult at best. As would the different moral values held by people in these times, something that Achilles and Connor filled her in on at dinner.

Unfortunately for Cheyenne, discomfort was grating on her nerves, as was the stress and uncertainty that came from being ripped away from everything and everyone she once knew. She could feel it boiling in her veins, begging to be released in one way or another.

"I guess people in your time do not cover up as much," Connor remarked while Cheyenne followed him up the stairs, breaking her current train of thought.

"Especially not when it's this hot," she grumbled angrily.

"Is Iowa a cold place?"

Great, it seemed Conor felt like talking now; just when she hoped he'd leave her to tend to her foul mood in peace. "In the winter, but not the summer."

"Shouldn't you be used to the heat, then?"

Cheyenne bristled at that. "You seem to have forgotten, yet again, that I'm from another goddamn time! So no, I'm not fucking used to dealing with shit like this!"

The second the words left her mouth, a deep sense of regret washed over Cheyenne. In her anger, she mistook the question as a way of implying that there was something wrong with her, even if his tone was even and free of any accusations. But it was too late to take the words back, for Connor had already narrowed his eyes and turned his back. She tried to backpedal, but the native was having none of it. "Come on!" he barked when she attempted to apologize.

They hadn't spoken after that, with the silence between them filled with her regret and his anger. Connor also refused to so much as look in her direction and focused on cleaning the tomahawk he retrieved from his belt. Cheyenne, on the other hand, went to bed immediately after changing back into her pajamas, even if they were no better than her jeans and shirt.

"You can put on your clothes from earlier, if you want."

Connor's voice startled her, even if he was quiet. He still wasn't looking in her direction, but his voice was flat and hard.

"They don't bother me," he continued. "You just surprised me."

She nodded, even if he couldn't see it, and reached into her duffle to get her shorts and tank top again. She would suffer a little less now, although part of her felt like she didn't deserve any kindness from him.

Thinking of Connor, Cheyenne lifted her head and looked at the young man lying in his bed, fast asleep on the other side of the room. It was too dark to make out details, but she could see the outline of his half-naked form on top of the covers. She felt envious of him; at least he could sleep. Then again, he was used to the heat and didn't have guilt hanging over him like she did.

Eventually, Cheyenne managed to bury the negative thoughts and lay back down. She couldn't do anything right now, but would make sure to try apologizing tomorrow. Maybe do something nice for him too; anything to show him she was sorry.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Cheyenne's world went black and she slipped into something like sleep.


	3. Introductions

"Cheyenne. Cheyenne, wake up."

"Five more minutes," she grumbled into the pillow.

No such luck. A calloused hand gripped her shoulder and shook her until she batted it away. Groaning irritably, she complied and shifted onto her elbows. Green eyes fluttered open, though she had to rub them in order to keep them that way.

"It's so early," she moaned. For Christ's sake, the sun hadn't even risen fully.

Connor snorted. "Indeed. Now get up."

Cheyenne muttered under her breath, but rose to her feet and stretched. Connor watched for a moment, then left the room when she bent over to dig around in her duffle. After a moment of consideration, she finally reached for a brightly colored dress that went to her knees. She had a feeling the weather would be roughly the same today and had no desire to cover up anymore than necessary.

At least Connor, who was already wearing his white robes, had no problem. He eyed the dress, but said nothing while she followed him into the hallway.

"Connor, I'm sorry," she suddenly blurted.

The native stopped in the middle of the stairs and turned around. His narrowed eyes and tan face were unfriendly, and Cheyenne found herself second guessing her actions. This wasn't what she'd planned to do, but being with him now made her anxious to get the weight off her chest.

"For what?" Connor finally asked.

"For what I said to you last night. I didn't mean it."

"That is twice now you've spoken to me like that."

His voice was hard and disbelieving, enough so that she nearly shut up under the intensity of his gaze. "I know. The stress was getting to me, and I took it out on you. It wasn't right, but I just want you to know I'll do better. I promise."

He considered this, all while eyeing her in a way that made her fidget uncomfortably. After several loud seconds ticked by, he finally sighed and his eyes softened a smidge. "I forgive you."

"I...Thank-"

"This time. If it happens again, I will not be so merciful. Understand?"

His tone was final and she recoiled at the edge in it. "Yes."

"Good. Now let's go."

Cheyenne followed without complaint, her heart pounding as Connor led her downstairs for breakfast. At least he was willing to give her a second, no, third chance. But this time, Cheyenne told herself, she would make sure she didn't screw it up.

The sound of a throat being cleared and a tapping cane broke her train of thought. She turned to face Achilles, his raised brow and disapproving look betraying what his problem was.

"Really?! Are you serious right now?!"

…

A few hours after breakfast found Cheyenne still following Connor around. He'd informed her over breakfast that he needed to check on the many residents living on the land. It'd been a while since he'd done so, but it also would give her a chance to meet them as well. Inwardly, she hoped they would be a little more open minded than Achilles who, despite his disapproval, let her walk out of the manor in her current attire without making her change again.

As soon as she and Connor walked out the door, Cheyenne asked him about colonial women wear. To say the least, it took her completely by surprise. She expected that they covered up more, but the thought of dressing like they did everyday left her feeling worn out.

"So many layers," she muttered in wonder.

Connor chuckled. "Is it that shocking?"

"You have no idea. Why can't women just throw on a simple skirt? It seems overly complicated to me."

"That is how the colonists are. It is proper attire."

"Well, I don't think I'll be dressing properly, then."

Connor shrugged, indifferent. "It is your choice, but I would advise covering up more than yesterday."

"I'll keep that in mind." They approached the first settlement, a modest looking farm surrounded by crops and livestock. Two people were standing in the shade the building provided, but quickly approached when they noticed them.

"Connor," an African woman in a red and yellow head wrap greeted warmly, followed closely by a man with a similar skin tone and dark beard.

"Prudence," Connor returned. "How are things?"

"Good, Connor. Everything is great." She turned, now eyeing Cheyenne curiously. "But who is this? A new friend?"

"Yes. She came here looking for a place to settle. I offered her one, but she is staying with me for now."

"How wonderful. The more the merrier," the man proclaimed cheerfully. "But what might she be called?"

"My name's Cheyenne. What's up?"

"Excuse me?"

Cheyenne's cheeks flushed slightly when Prudence raised a brow. She'd have to remember not to use modern day sayings. "I meant it's a pleasure to meet you."

Prudence was giving her a questioning look, as was the man standing beside her, but they thankfully decided to drop the matter. "And to you as well."

Connor and Cheyenne stayed for a few more minutes and made idle chit-chat. Cheyenne was quite curious about the people on the homestead, but also hoped to indirectly learn more about the time period through conversation.

But Prudence and, as Cheyenne soon found out, Warren were curious about her too. Though they hid it well, she caught both of them eyeing her dress and exposed lower legs with perplexed expressions. They probably had plenty of questions about her, what with her attire and phrases they'd never heard before. The thought had Cheyenne feeling self conscious, and she decided to reconsider dressing like colonial women, or something similar to it.

For now, Cheyenne made up a story to explain her origins. As far as Prudence and Warren knew, she was forced to flee from Boston after tax collectors visited her home and found out she was unable to pay. A few days later, after relying on foraging and the kindness of strangers to survive, she met Connor, who offered her a place on the homestead.

And she explained her strange attire as a gift from her now deceased mother, who loved experimenting with fashion and had a rather unique taste.

"I am so sorry for your loss," Prudence offered, shaking her head sadly. "But it is fortunate that you met Connor. He's given us all a second chance, and I'm sure you'll prosper here."

Cheyenne nodded. "An opportunity like this doesn't come often, and I will be forever grateful to Connor for offering it to me."

Warren and Prudence beamed at her. Unfortunately, they had to return to the farm soon after, so the four exchanged goodbyes and Connor led Cheyenne away.

"They were nice people," she commented.

"The people here are good. You should have little trouble getting along."

"That's a relief." Indeed, Cheyenne was feeling nervous before, but seeing how open the two were put most of her worries at ease. "You're doing a really good thing Connor. I know this time period wasn't easy, but Warren and Prudence seem so happy here."

Connor allowed a smile for a split second. "Thank you. But you need to remember to tell everyone the same story about how you got here. I do not want them getting suspicious of you."

The light mood between them gone, Cheyenne let her own smile drop. "Of course. I worry about what might happen if people suspect I'm not what I say I am."

"As long as they do not suspect, there is no need for worry," Connor assured. "Your story is believable, so stick with it."

"I will, but I wanted to ask you about something."

"And what is that?"

"I've changed my mind about dressing like colonists. Sort of. I don't want to wear that many layers, but I'm worried that my clothes will attract too much attention. Do you have an alternative?"

Connor considered for a moment, then gestured to the path in front of them. "I think I have the perfect idea."

…

Turns out, Connor's idea took shape in the form of a woman named Myriam, another settler on the homestead. She was a hunter, and upon seeing the other dressed in pants and a shirt, Cheyenne was immediately relieved. Perhaps she would not be stuck with layers of skirts after all.

The young huntress looked at Cheyenne's dress a moment too long to be natural, but still extended her hand for a shake. Cheyenne took it as she introduced herself, then stood quietly beside Connor while he inquired about some poachers on the land. A spark of anger flashed in Myriam's eyes and she brushed her fingers against her left arm, though she shook her head and promised to keep an eye out.

"Good, but be careful. Come get me if there are too many."

Myriam rolled her eyes. "Of course, father," she replied playfully. Connor chuckled and looked as if he was readying a retort, but the huntress turned back to Cheyenne before he could speak. "Where did you get that dress, if you don't mind me asking?"

"My mother made it before she passed." Cheyenne put on a sad smile while toying with the end of the skirt. "She always loved to experiment."

Myriam shuffled awkwardly. "I'm sorry for your loss. I probably shouldn't have asked."

"It's fine," she reassured. "I'm not offended."

Myriam seemed like she was going to ask another question, had Connor not interrupted her. "Hello Alice. It has been a while."

Cheyenne looked over her shoulder to see another woman approaching them, fiery red hair swaying in the breeze behind her. "And hello to you, Connor." She turned to Cheyenne. "And you as well. What's your name?"

"I'm Cheyenne."

"It's a pleasure." Alice came closer and greeted Myriam. She made small talk with her and Connor for a moment, but soon turned back to Cheyenne and eyed the dress with interest. "That's quite pretty. How'd you come across something like that?"

Cheyenne repeated her story again. Alice nodded and expressed her sympathies, to which Cheyenne accepted and offered answers to the woman's other questions, including how she came to the homestead in the first place.

"My, my, that's terrible," Alice murmured sadly.

"It was, but that's all in the past. Things should get better now."

And Cheyenne believed that, too.

…

Well, perhaps things would get better someday. But for now, as Cheyenne adjusted to the time period, things only grew stranger.

A few days after meeting the homestead residents, Connor woke her early one morning and practically dragged her to the stables. Sleepy and shrouded in darkness, she asked where they were going. "Boston," was all Connor would reveal as he went about saddling the horse.

Cheyenne tried to get more information out of him, but to no avail. Connor simply ignored her questions until he finally asked that she remained silent so he could concentrate. Halfway tempted to defy him, she considered returning to bed, but was quite curious about colonial America and wanted to see Boston. Even if it was far from her native Iowa, she still wanted to see the beginnings of the country.

Unfortunately for Cheyenne, the trip was uneventful. True, she didn't know what to expect of the city, but the dull, smelly one she and Connor rode into after a multi-hour ride on horseback disappointed her deeply.

And disgusted her.

"Is that a pig?"

Connor seemed a little taken aback. "Have you never seen a pig before?"

Eyes wide, she looked back and forth between them. "I have, but why is it walking down the street? Shouldn't it be in a pen?"

Connor shrugged. "Lots of animals walk the streets. It is normal."

"You're kidding me!" The pig in question choose that moment to approach Cheyenne, to which she quickly put Connor between herself and the pig to avoid it. Connor gave her an odd look before retrieving some feed from his pocket and sprinkling it on the ground. The pig gave a grunt before dismissing them entirely and gobbling up its snack.

"It will not hurt you."

"That's not what I'm worried about. I don't know where it's been." She observed the animal for a moment longer, muttering under her breath, "No wonder this place smells like shit."

"There are no pigs in your city, I suppose."

"Only if they're being taken somewhere, but they still don't run free like that."

Connor raised a brow but Cheyenne ignored it, especially after she noticed other colonists looking at them. Some were even stopping and pointing them out to their group mates.

"Do not worry," Connor reassured. "The colonists often stop and watch me."

"I think they're looking at me, actually."

Sure enough, she was getting stares. If she moved behind Connor, they would crane their necks or move so she was still in their sight. She suddenly felt uncomfortable in her black jeans and white hoodie, causing her to tug the hood over her head and shove her hands into her pockets.

"Ignore them. We need to go."

"And where are we going, exactly?"

"An inn."

Perplexed but unwilling to spend more time in full view of the colonists, Cheyenne followed Connor down the cobblestone streets obediently. She stayed close to him, more so than she normally dared, and observed the surrounding city from beneath her hood; the brick buildings, red or brown, some tall and some not, boring and dull.

Similar, but still much different from home.

By the time she and Connor reached the inn, Cheyenne wanted to let out a big sigh of relief. Every second on the streets were filled with people stopping and staring. One particular man, extremely drunk by the sound of him, had the nerve to call out to the two of them, but lost interest after they turned a corner. At least in the inn, people paid more attention to their alcohol and conversations than the two of them.

After sliding a few coins to the innkeeper, Connor led Cheyenne upstairs into a small, but thankfully clean, room with two small beds and a wooden table. He let her look around, then set a small bag on the table and gave her an absurd command: stay there and wait for him to return.

"Are you out of your mind?!"

Her sudden outburst startled Connor. "Excuse me-"

"I'm not staying here."

His eyes narrowed. "Yes, you are."

"If you were just going to dump me, why couldn't you leave me with Achilles?"

"I…I cannot explain, but you need to listen to me, Cheyenne. Now please stay here."

He left no room for argument. Slumping her shoulders in defeat, she nodded. "Fine. Will you be gone long?"

"Potentially."

"Overnight?"

"Perhaps."

Cheyenne was getting more uneasy by the second. "What about food?"

"I left some money on the table. It should be more than enough."

"Wait!" Cheyenne demanded. "I want to know what was so important that you had to drag me out of bed and all the way to Boston, only to abandon me in some random inn!"

He let out an annoyed sigh. "I already told you, I cannot explain. Now settle down; I need to leave."

With little choice, Cheyenne watched him go. Filled with anger, she buried her face into a pillow and screamed. Afterwards, she punched the mattress before plopping down onto it and unwillingly resigned herself to waiting for Connor to come back.

…

Connor left her in that inn for what felt like hours. Cheyenne only left for food, though she kept her hood up and eyes down. The innkeeper she spoke to eyed her suspiciously and tried asking her about Connor, then her clothes after she dodged the first set of questions. Thankfully he shut up after she dumped the entire bag of coins on the counter and left to get her what she asked for.

When Connor finally returned, she was half-asleep on the bed and nearly screamed when he yanked the door open.

"Sorry. I did not mean to scare you."

"Tell that to my pounding heart!"

Connor snorted. He looked irritated and tired, but didn't bother with a response. Then he turned towards the table, reaching out as if to grab something, but quickly stopped in his tracks when he saw nothing on it.

"Where is the bag I gave you?"

"With the innkeeper."

His eyes snapped to her. "Why did you give him the entire bag!?"

Cheyenne jumped, his sudden hostility unnerving her. "I didn't know how much it was!"

"Can you not count? Were you so privileged that you never worried about money in your former life?"

Cheyenne bristled at his acidic tone and raised hers to match. "Excuse me? Don't talk to me like that! I already told you-"

"Was' going on in 'ere?"

Cheyenne turned towards the doorway where the man who interrupted them stood. He was dressed in patchy clothes, barefoot and dirty with a bottle in his hand. Repressing a disgusted shiver, she glanced back at Connor, only to realize they'd gotten a lot closer to each other. Both their fists were clenched and Connor's pulse point suck out in his neck. If it wasn't for the man, they probably would've started shouting.

"Nothing," Cheyenne finally said. "My friend and I were just…having a bit of a disagreement. We're fine."

"Didn't look like nothin' to me. Yer both red, and it looks to me like the savage is about to hit ya, little lady."

Cheyenne, now on her way towards the nearest bed to sit down, froze midstep. "What did you say?"

"Listen girly, maybe you don't know how these savages treat their women, but I think ya should-"

"That is enough," Connor interrupted, voice deadly calm and spoken through clenched teeth. "You need to leave us. This conversation is between her and-"

"A conversation that'll end with 'er dead." He ignored Connor's enraged snort and went for Cheyenne, pointedly ignoring her silent protests. "It's fer yer own good, girly. Don' make me get the guards up-"

The idea that he would potentially try to force her to go with him made Cheyenne extremely anxious, and seeing his blackened fingers reaching for her made her feel trapped and cornered, enough so that she smacked his hand away. "Don't touch me you disgusting son of a bitch! I'll break your nose if you do!"

The man was angry immediately; the rejection of his advances clearly wasn't sitting well with him. "Ya wanna stay with this 'ere savage? What if 'e-"

"At least 'this savage' has enough decency to not smell like pigshit and sweat! Now leave us alone, because this is none of your concern!"

The man bared his teeth and let the bottle drop so he held it by the neck. Cheyenne quickly realized what he was doing and backed away but he advanced on her, now brandishing the bottle like a weapon. She was about to scream, but the sound of metal sliding on metal interrupted her, followed quickly by something flying through the air and the bottle shattering.

"Leave now!" Connor barked, now brandishing his tomahawk threateningly. "And keep the guards out of this, or you will not go home tonight!"

Now turning pale, the man shakily nodded and fled, stumbling like a drunk before he finally disappeared around a corner. Even once he was gone, Cheyenne stood frozen in place until Connor calmly closed the door. Only did she make a move to sit on the nearest bed, legs now unsteady and trembling while she stared at the broken brown glass littering the floor.

"Cheyenne?"

She nearly startled when Connor spoke. He'd moved while she was distracted and now kneeled at her side, face much softer than it'd been a few moments ago. He placed a hand on her leg and she jumped, heart pounding like that of a skittish rabbit.

"Are you well?"

"I...I…" She chuckled humorlessly. "Shit. Yeah, I'll be fine. Just give me a minute."

Connor raised a brow. He looked skeptical, but said nothing as he sat beside her. His hand, a warm and solid weight, left her leg soon after.

"I'm sorry about the money," she told him. "Currency's different in my time, so I didn't know how much to give him in the first place. Then he wouldn't stop asking about me and you, so I thought he would shut up if I just-"

A quiet chuckle from him cut off her rambling. "It is fine, Cheyenne. I did not give you a large sum. My errands did not go as planned, and I became angry at you because of it. I apologize."

"It's fine, Connor. I probably deserved it."

"No. You didn't." He paused momentarily. "That man was quite...surprising to you."

"I was more scared than surprised. I thought he was going to hit me with that bottle." She snorted. "The goddamn hypocrite."

"I know, but you weren't scared before."

He didn't elaborate, leaving Cheyenne confused. "What are you getting at, Connor?"

"What he said about me surprised you."

"Well, how could I not be?"

He seemed taken aback. "Does no one speak like that in your time?"

Cheyenne considered. "Some people do, but I've never seen it personally. It's a lot less common, and even punishable, sometimes."

"Is that...really true?"

"Yeah. And even if they were going to be racist," she added as an afterthought, "I don't think near as many people would be bold enough to say something that hateful to someone's face."

Connor seemed confused. "Do they leave notes?"

She chuckled. "No. It's...hard to explain. I'll tell you more tomorrow, but there are ways to say things like that without anyone knowing it's you."

His brow creased further, but he looked content with the explanation for now. "I want to thank you. It means a lot to know you do not view me that way."

"You're welcome. But if I may, does that happen often?"

"Yes, unfortunately."

To her surprise, Connor didn't seem sad or angry. More like he just accepted that it happened and there was nothing he could do about it. She felt bothered and almost apologized, but caught herself before she did. Apologize for what; the actions of other people that she couldn't control? It didn't feel like the right thing to do. Then she considered wrapping her arm around his shoulder or taking his hand in hers, but she didn't know if he would appreciate that, either.

"Well," she finally said. "At least things will change someday."

Cheyenne felt a subtle warmth in her chest when he smiled, looking hopeful. "That is comforting to know. I am glad that I met you."

"Me too, Connor. Me too."


	4. Revelations part 1

"Let me guess; you want me to stay here and wait for you."

"No, Cheyenne. I want you to come with me, but I decided to buy the room anyway."

Cheyenne chuckled and sat on one of the beds. Connor was starting to come around to her sarcasm as of late, and would smile or make sarcastic remarks of his own. Unfortunately, as much as she was enjoying his company, he only stuck around long enough to set a bag of money on the table and offer a brief goodbye.

Not that it mattered if their parting was quick. She would quickly rejoin him; he just wouldn't know it.

Cheyenne waited until his heavy footsteps fell silent, then left the room and went downstairs. Luckily for her, she caught sight of his white coat as he passed a window. After giving him a few seconds to create a little more distance, she hurried to the door and went outside.

As she did so, she ignored the familiar set of eyes boring into her back.

Connor had taken her to inns three times now, and she'd noticed a bald, hard-faced man following them sometime after the first. Then, whenever she came down to get food or step outside, he would be there; always off to the side, watching her closely while trying not to make it obvious. She'd mentioned it to Connor once but he brushed it off, saying the man was nothing more than another curious colonist watching the two outsiders. If it wasn't for the way he refused to make eye contact, she might have believed him.

Either way, there was little she could do about it. At least the man had yet to approach either of them. In fact, aside from that drunkard she and Connor encountered, no one approached either of them. They just watched from afar, though the amount of people who did so was noticeably lower today. Probably because she wasn't by Connor's side for once, and she blended in better with her new clothes. Even if it was unusual to see a young woman in pants and a shirt, it stuck out less than her modern day attire.

Cheyenne used this to her advantage as she walked down New York's streets, often ducking behind buildings to watch Connor until he disappeared from sight, only to relocate him and keep following after. She felt anxious about doing this but it couldn't be helped; Connor's behavior and that strange man made her suspicious and eager to find an explanation for all of it.

Eventually Connor approached another man, older and balding and dressed like other colonial men. They walked through the market for a bit, though Cheyenne couldn't hear what they were saying. When they stopped, she took shelter behind a wagon of corn, watching as together they observed two more colonists nearby. One seemed angry and threw what looked like pieces of paper at the other. The colonist looked startled and quickly retreated soon after, adjusting his tricorn hat as he did so.

That was where Connor left the company of his balding friend and followed the retreating man. Eyebrow raised, Cheyenne kept trailing Conor, though she let him get further ahead now that he seemed to be keeping a closer eye on his surroundings. Through multiple alleyways and streets, and a few occasional pauses where Connor listened in on the man's conversations, Cheyenne followed Connor who followed the colonial man.

Until Connor decided to take to the rooftops instead. Cheyenne cursed and came to a crouch behind a wagon, but nearly jumped out of her skin when a call rang out. "Hey you! Stop!"

Connor stopped in his tracks and looked to his left, and that was when Cheyenne spotted the guard on the roof. She'd seen them before, but this one looked angry and pointed his musket at Connor threateningly, now demanding that he get down immediately.

The aggression made Cheyenne nervous, though her blood ran cold when Connor ripped the musket away and stabbed the guard square in the chest. Red spurted from the wound after Connor ripped it out, and he let the guard's now twitching body collapse on the roof. The sudden violence was too much for Cheyenne, but Connor simply dropped the bloody musket and kept trailing his target, vanishing from her line of sight moments later and disappearing altogether.

Now, if Cheyenne had quickly followed after, she might have found him again, but she knew that he would be long gone when she finally stumbled to her feet a couple minutes later. Uncertain and overly anxious, she turned away and started back to the inn.

The day was warm, but she was shaking and cold, even more so than after what happened with the drunkard a month ago. Cheyenne had never personally witnessed death before, especially not something so violent and unexpected. She thought Connor was just going to heed the guard's warning instead of reacting the way he did, and his reasoning confused her deeply.

As did his reasoning for dropping her off at inns and keeping her practically leashed to his side. Coupled with his lies and sudden violence, she couldn't help but wonder what he was keeping from her.

But after seeing how he walked away from that guard's corpse like it was nothing, Cheyenne wasn't sure if she wanted to know anymore.

…

A few hours later, Cheyenne was back in her room at the inn. She'd spent most of the time staring at the ceiling and pondering over what to do. Usually, she was bored out of her mind during these stays. From time to time, she listened to a song or two on her phone, but switched the device back off immediately after. The charge was still high after more than a month, and Cheyenne hoped to save her music for when she truly needed it. Unfortunately, music wouldn't help her now; she would be far too distracted to truly enjoy it.

After a while, she realized she was starting to get a little peckish. Grateful for the distraction, she took a few coins from the bag Connor left her and headed for the stairs. Thankfully, when she approached the counter, there were only a handful of others sitting at the tables. Once she'd gotten her food, she made a rare decision to eat downstairs. She was starting to get sick of the silence in her room.

Although Cheyenne didn't like it, she decided not to confront Connor later. She doubted she'd get much of an answer if she tried, considering all the other secrets he was keeping from her. Plus, if it did anything, it would make Connor distrust her even more. Uncomfortable with his attitude as she was, Cheyenne was grateful to Connor and, considering she could either stay with him or go out on her own, she wished he would relax around her. Cheyenne liked him, though she wouldn't go so far as to call him a friend.

"What's your name?"

She jumped. Lost in thought, she hadn't noticed that two colonial men had approached her, one with hair as dark as the other was light. "Cheyenne."

"Yer named after an injun tribe?" the other fair-haired one asked.

"My mother thought it was a pretty name," Cheyenne said quickly, cursing the fact that she'd never considered how her own name might sound to some of the colonists.

Luckily the two seemed to accept her answer, but they had a few more questions for her, which Cheyenne answered politely. No, she didn't know where Connor was. Yes, she was waiting here for him and she was here willingly. No, she didn't want to go anywhere or have a drink with the two of them.

Eventually they left her alone and she returned to her troubled thoughts. When she was finished with her meal, she returned her bowl to the innkeeper and was heading towards the stairs when another man loudly entered and announced his presence. He was immediately called over by the two who spoke with her earlier, followed by a demand for a pint of ale. Uninterested, Cheyenne kept her pace as she walked back to her room.

"Did ya hear? Couple of blokes just got arrested on counterfeiting charges."

"Really now?"

"I saw the whole thing. Unlucky bastard was being chased by some big native when the guards caught 'em both."

Cheyenne froze in her tracks. Could it be-

"Any idea who they are?"

"I've never seen the first bloke, but I've seen that native before. He's the one with the white coat; often has that girl with him."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the blond colonist turning towards her, but she disappeared and went back to her room before they could lock eyes. She slammed the door on the way in and let her body slide down the wall, head in her hands as she fought to keep her panic under control. Connor- in jail? For counterfeiting? What the hell was going on?

A sudden knock interrupted her thoughts. "Go away," she called out.

"Please, Cheyenne. I need to talk to you."

The sound of her name gave her pause, as well as the unfamiliar accent. He definitely didn't sound like most of the colonists. "Who are you?"

"My name is Jacob Zenger, and I'm a friend of Connor's. Please open the door."

At the mention of Connor's name, Cheyenne was up and reaching for the door. She opened it and was greeted with the same bald guy that'd been watching her and Connor for days.

She tensed and almost slammed the door in his face. "How do you know Connor?" she demanded.

"There's no time for that. We need to get moving."

"What are you-?"

"You're in danger Cheyenne. Connor's mission went wrong and there are redcoats looking for you now."

"Looking for…Wait. Where are we going?"

"Boston. No more questions, now. We need to go."

He moved past her to grab what little possessions she had in the room. Cheyenne was too stunned to do anything but watch quietly. But when Jacob went to the little bedside table to take the pouch Connor had given her, a worn looking necklace slipped from around his neck and clattered against the floor. Jacob cursed loudly and bent over to retrieve it, and Cheyenne realized that the lone charm was the same symbol as the one Connor wore around his waist.

Cheyenne had asked him about it before, but Connor quickly brushed it off as something important to his people that she probably wouldn't understand. She'd been slightly offended, but she never brought it up again. Seeing the same symbol now made her think Connor hadn't been telling the truth; it wouldn't be the first time.

But it did mean there was a real connection between Connor and Jacob, and that helped reassure any worries she had. Mind made up, Cheyenne reached out to take her phone and willingly followed Jacob out of the inn.

…

Jacob gestured here towards his horse, a brutish looking black mare. "Over here. Have you ridden before?"

"Only with Connor. Why?"

"Just curious."

Cheyenne raised a brow, but let the strange question drop and mounted the horse while Jacob made a few last minute transfers between the two packs in his possession. He'd taken her phone back and placed it, her earbuds, and the pouch Connor gave her inside. Now, he was loading provisions into it. After he seemed satisfied, he closed both packs and handed her the one with her belongings.

He must've sensed her confusion, because he smirked at her. "What? You don't expect me to carry all this by myself, do you?"

"I guess that would be rather rude of me," Cheyenne said jokingly. Jacob laughed while he climbed onto the horse and took the reins, but took her by surprise one last time when he handed her a worn looking knife over his shoulder.

She studied the weapon. The leather on the handle was well used, but the blade itself was sharper than a surgeon's scalpel. "What's this for?"

Jacob shot her a confused look. "The frontier is crawling with predators and redcoats; it isn't safe out there." He turned around and gently kicked the horse's side. At the sudden motion, Cheyenne jumped and carefully stuck the knife into her waistband, though she didn't take Jacob's waist until the horse increased its speed to a gallop, then a smooth run. "You know, I'm surprised Connor hasn't given you a weapon yet."

"Connor made it clear he doesn't want me to touch one," Cheyenne informed him. Unfortunately, she couldn't keep much of the bitterness out of her voice.

"I see."

Her frown deepened. "You're a friend of his. Has he told you anything….About me?"

"Nothing much. Just that you were staying with him."

Cheyenne nearly laughed. Turned out that Jacob, like Connor, was a horrible liar. His words damn near sounded rehearsed, too much to be natural.

"Okay then. What about that charm on your necklace?"

"What of it?"

Cheyenne fought to keep her tone light and casual. "Connor wears the same symbol on his belt."

Jacob shrugged nonchalantly. "It's just a necklace. Nothing special about it."

"And Connor too?"

"What about him?"

Cheyenne faltered at the slight edge in Jacob's voice, but pressed on regardless. "I've just seen it on Connor. I wondered if the symbol meant anything."

Thankfully, he relaxed again. "It doesn't mean anything. Just something to add to the outfit." He turned to catch her eye and Cheyenne smiled at him, though inside her mind was racing. She'd caught Connor in another lie, and now she was really starting to get scared. He was part of something, as was this Jacob Zenger, and Cheyenne was starting to regret following Connor out of the inn.

A sudden hiss from Jacob regained her attention, followed quickly by shouting and the loud crack of a musket firing. She gripped Jacob's waist for dear life while he jammed his heel into the horse's side and directed it off the road and into the woods around them.

"They're goin' off tha path!"

"Don't lose them!"

"Ready another round!"

Cheyenne looked behind her. Before a large tree blocked them from view, she caught glimpses of men clad in red, all four on horseback with muskets in hand. There was another bang when the muskets fired again. The sound of splitting wood echoed around them, while another round whizzed past her and Jacob. This time she screamed and buried her head in Jacob's back, but he ignored her and yelled something in another language. She felt him turning in the saddle, then more loud gunfire as Jacob fired his pistol. There was shouting from the men and a pained scream, and Cheyenne hoped that would be the end of it.

Then there was another loud crack, but this time it was the horse that screamed while something warm splattered against the back of her leg. The horse went down, taking her and Jacob along as it tumbled down a large hill. Thankfully, they were both flung off to the side before they hit the ground, preventing either from being crushed by the large animal on the way down.

Cheyenne skidded to a painful stop, her entire body feeling scratched and bruised through the thin fabric of her clothes. She moaned in pain and shakily stood on her feet. Terrified for her life, her breathing was getting more rapid, and she nearly screamed when Jacob grabbed her arm and dragged her away from the hill. They sprinted a short distance before he pulled her behind some bushes and pulled her down. Wide eyed, she watched Jacob while he pulled a rolled up parchment out of his pack and quickly shoved it into her hands.

"It's a map," he said quickly. "Get to Boston and find Stephane! He'll help you!"

"But-"

"He's a friend of Connor's; you can trust him! Now go!"

Giving her no time to protest, Jacob pushed her away from the bushes and marched in the direction they'd just come from. Cheyenne staggered a few steps and stopped, but quickly changed her mind and ran once more redcoat voices sounded out.

The last thing she heard before she disappeared into the woods was Jacob shouting back and the clang of metal swords.


End file.
